


this is as easy as lovers go

by thewinterose



Category: Fruits Basket, Fruits Basket (Anime 2019), Fruits Basket - Takaya Natsuki (Manga)
Genre: (But also NOT REALLY), Bookstores, Coffee Shops, F/M, First Dates, Mutual Pining, Spoilers, also i snuck in a lil kyoru bc i can't stop myself, lmao most of this is just yuki waxing poetic about machi's eyes whats new
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-31 05:47:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20110114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewinterose/pseuds/thewinterose
Summary: “A bodice ripper? You never struck me as the type.”Or:Yuki runs into Machi at a bookstore. The resulting interaction isn't what he would call a date, exactly, but he wouldn't not call it that either.





	this is as easy as lovers go

**Author's Note:**

> so this is my first attempt in writing yumachi. i adore this ship, but i've always found more inspiration writing for kyoru, but when i had this idea for them, my brain wouldn't shut up until i wrote it down. i'm not super happy with the result- i still feel a little shaky on the way i characterized both of them- but i wrote 5k words and i'll be damned if i don't post it lmao. i hope you all enjoy! give me some feedback in case you feel like there's something i can do better!
> 
> p.s. fic title taken from the song "as lovers go" by dashboard confessional. also i listened to a lot of "falling in love at a coffee shop" by landon pigg

“Yuki-kun? Are you going out?”

Yuki turns, catching the sight of Tohru holding a spatula, her hair done up in a loose bun, greeting him. With the soft, inquisitive expression on her face and the kitchen utensil in hand, she looks perfectly domestic. Just seeing it makes his heart feel warm.

The smile he directs at her is nearly automatic, the muscles of his face accustomed to moving just in response to her. He raises his hand, his wallet visible. “Yeah, I’m just going out to buy a book someone told me about”- He doesn’t mention the fact that the recommendation came from Kakeru of all people- “I should be back before dinner.”

Tohru tilts her head at him before nodding, smiling widely. Footsteps stomp down the stairs behind them, and Yuki notices her eyes leaving his to follow Kyo as he walks around them. He stamps down the urge to roll his eyes. However, before he can walk out the door, she looks back at him, still smiling. “Okay! Tell me if you have to miss dinner in case I should leave some food out for you!” she says brightly.

He nods, feeling himself visibly softening in response to her. “I will.” He walks to the front door, waving over his shoulder. “Bye! Tell Kyo not to be an idiot. You know, in case he somehow manages to avoid it.”

A distinct “Fuck off!” echoes behind them, and Yuki only allows himself to smile once he’s fully on the dirt path, walking until the house was no longer in sight. Although, by that point, it’s not so much a smile as it is a smirk.

He snickers to himself, shoving his hands in his jean pockets. Kyo may piss him off on a near daily basis, but at least he was easy to make fun of. It made up for it, in a way.

Yuki looks up, closing his eyes and allowing the mid-afternoon sun to warm the planes of his face. He could hear the whistle of the breeze through the trees; a calming song that acted as a prelude to the rapidly approaching summer. The slightly wet weather of spring was beginning to leave them, doing wonders for Kyo’s general disposition, and in turn, Tohru’s. Yuki didn’t care much either way. Whether it was raining or not, Kyo still somehow found a way to be moody around him.

Yuki shakes his head, pushing away that particular train of thought. He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a scrap of paper, the sight of Kakeru’s vaguely childish scrawl greeting him.

_It’s called **It** Yun-Yun! Buy it! However, I would skip the sewer scene if I were you :(_

Yuki rolls his eyes, not quite sure why he was even buying this book in the first place. He didn’t even particularly like horror novels, despite having a fondness for horror movies. He remembered mentioning this fact offhand to Kakeru a couple days ago after a student council meeting, not really expecting much out of it, before his friend prostrated himself before him and practically begged him to pick it up. He agreed just to get him to stop, the only other alternative being to knock him out before he could embarrass himself further.

Yuki stares forward, focusing on the approaching bookstore just a block ahead of him. He doesn’t remember it being quite so close to the house, but maybe he couldn’t really force himself to notice the distance what with him being distracted by his own thoughts.

He walks forward, laying a hand on the glass door and stepping into the shop, the familiar scent of ground coffee and books greeting him. He feels himself relax slightly, calmed by the mellow atmosphere. He’s been here a few times to study or go shopping with Tohru depending on whatever they needed to get for school. He has nice memories here. He likes it.

He steps forward, peering around the store to find the horror section, the slip of paper held between his fingers. Within moments he spots it, walking towards it and shoving the paper back in his pocket. The book was commonplace enough that he knew who the author was. He doesn’t even know why Kakeru felt the need to write it down. Probably to annoy him. Or to remind him.

Most likely, it was both.

Yuki approaches the shelf of books, his eyes scanning over the different volumes and the names of the authors. He saw various novels, some that he was slightly more interested in buying than a book about a clown, but still, he- he felt compelled to at least check this one out. And if he hated it, then he could just make fun of it in front of Kakeru. That might be fun.

He crouches down, bending over to look at the books near the bottom of the shelf, running his finger over the dusty labels. He stops once he spots _King _and starts looking, roving his eyes over different novels, all of varying thickness, but still somehow managing to be nearly biblical in length. He rolls his eyes again.

His finger pauses over a paperback spine, the book title matching the note in his pocket. He grabs it and stands up, turning the book over on its front.

The sight of a heavily made up, sinister looking clown, grins up at him, its hair ridiculously orange. He feels a smirk tug at his lips, comparisons already starting to form in his mind.

He walks out of the section, the book opened in his hands, its glossy cover sliding against his palms. He usually preferred hardbacks, but he wasn’t going to spend that kind of money on a book that he might not like. Clowns didn’t even scare him.

He looks forward, trying to find his way out of the veritable maze that was this particular bookstore, when the sight of something makes him pause. He stops, walking into another section, and glances furtively at a girl standing near the end of it, that shade of brown hair remarkably familiar to him.

He opens the book further and holds it up to his face, still looking at her out of the corner of his eye, but not wanting to make it either obvious, or her uncomfortable.

He eyes her profile, hidden behind loose locks of hair, the rest of it pulled back in a simple ponytail. She usually never wore her hair in that style, but then again, he only ever saw her in school, and she generally had a habit of being pretty routine with her appearance.

His gaze slips down to her outfit: a fitted white blouse and a knee-length red skirt, black Mary Janes at her feet. He couldn’t help but notice how very pretty she looked. Simple, but if there was anything that he learned, it was that there was a certain beauty to be found in simplicity; it was free of artifice.

He lowers his book, feeling a smile twitch at his lips, his voice calling out for her before he’s consciously aware of it. “Machi!”

The girl in question turns, her wide eyes meeting his, a pretty flush working its way up her cheeks. He couldn’t help but notice that too.

Yuki stops just a foot away from her, his hand still raised in greeting. He sees her pause before looking up at him, still short even with the slight heel of her shoes. “Hello, President,” she says politely, folding her fingers in front of her, a red purse hanging at her elbow.

Yuki smiles at her, lowering his hand and shoving it in his pocket. He finds himself not really knowing what to say to her. In fact, when he saw her, he didn’t really think beyond just saying hi. He wanted to say hi.

“Uh, so what are you doing here?” he asks, swinging the novel at his side.

Machi turns back to the bookshelf, her blush reappearing, her fingers tightening around each other. “Book shopping. What about you?” she asks, directing her gaze back up at him.

Yuki nods, glancing around, tapping his fingers on the glossy front cover of his book. “Same.”

He looks at the name of the section they were in, half-noticing that he never took the time too, so focused was he on trying to see if it was her.

Romance.

He feels a smile pull at his lips, glancing at the book titles she seemed very resolute in looking at, her eyebrows pulled in tight and her eyes narrowed. He reaches forward and grabs the novel directly in front of her, Machi gasping slightly, proof that he startled her from her concentration.

He holds it to his face, reading the title and looking at the cover with a poorly-concealed grin. He looks back at her, delighted by the furious flush on her face. “A bodice ripper? You never struck me as the type.” He waves the book in front of her, the garish pink book jacket and the parted, red lips of the raven-haired female protagonist unmistakable and impossible not to notice.

Machi gasps as if in offense and dives forward, snatching the book from his hands. She holds it to her chest, her face nearly as red as the cover model’s lipstick, as her skirt. “I don’t- I’ve never-!”

Yuki breaks, bending over and laughing at her, her still-flushed face just barely visible through his nearly closed eyes. He takes a few moments, the mental image of her holding the book and scowling at him through her embarrassment almost sending him through another fit of hysterics, but the small growls Machi kept emitting brought him back to earth. He knew her well enough at this point not to underestimate her temper.

He straightens up, running a palm over his wet eyes, almost deliriously happy with how much she managed to make him laugh. He meets her gaze, the sight of her still red and scowling at him making it nearly impossible not to smile at her.

“Are you done now?” she asks through gritted teeth, the book still held protectively to her chest.

Yuki’s smile widened. “Yes.” He takes a second to consider. “Mostly.”

She groans near inaudibly, turning her face away from him, her cheeks near-permanently stained with reddish-pink, her lips sucked in either to avoid smiling or yelling at him. He’d be delighted by both.

She steps towards the bookshelf and shoves the offending novel back in its slot, moving away from it like it was diseased. She spares him a look, her eyes still flashing with residual anger. “Well, President, it was nice seeing you, but if you don’t mind, I’ll have to-“

Yuki starts, suddenly overcome with the feeling that he doesn’t want her to leave, that he wants to spend more time with her, and he finds himself reaching forward, wrapping his hand around her forearm. He turns her back around. “Machi, wait-!”

She abruptly looks back up at him, her cheeks still flushed, her eyes wide and shimmering brown, less than several inches away from his own.

Yuki feels himself grow hot and he pulls away, inching back a step, his hand still wrapped around her, but looser now.

“I-I’m sorry. I was just teasing you. You don’t have to leave if you don’t want to.” He pauses then, wondering if she thought that he was being presumptuous, or asserting his will over her own. “Unless you want to. Then you can, but only if-“

Machi interrupts him, stepping closer, the hand not in his own raised in some attempt to placate him. She peers up him through her eyelashes, and Yuki wonders if she’s aware of how utterly pretty she looks as she does; almost heartbreakingly so.

“It’s okay. I can stay. I still haven’t gotten what I want yet,” she says, and Yuki exhales slightly, seemingly in relief. He steps back and pulls away from her, her hand thudding as it falls back against her thigh. He looks at her expectantly. “So, if not for the romance novels, what did you come here for?” he asks, unable to resist the jibe, ignoring when Machi shoots him a scathing glare.

When she’s done, she glances over to a shelf located just a few books to her right, and Yuki reads the section title. Manga.

_Oh,_ he thinks. He understands now.

He walks over to where she’s looking, selecting a familiar title, having seen it enough times both at home and in her own hands.

He grabs the spine and tugs it out, reading the title. “_Mogeta and Ari,_ volume seven.” He holds it up to her. “Was this it?”

Machi looks at the item in his hands almost covetously, her hands reaching out to take it from him.

Yuki has the distinct urge to snatch it out of sight, or hold it up to where she can’t reach just to see her jump for it, but he resists, tempting though it may be. He doesn’t want to make her angry again. Much.

He hands it to her and Machi takes it, hurriedly flipping through the pages, nearly trembling with poorly-concealed excitement. He watches as her eyes scan over the cutesy illustrations, noticing how her gaze always seems to linger on Mogeta for a bit, how her fingers trace the outlines of the characters, how her lips move and purse as she reads the dialogue silently. It almost feels wrong to watch her. Like he’s peeking into some private corner of her life, of her personality, and yet, at the same time, he finds that he wants to see more of it.

And then suddenly, he can’t stand the idea of her leaving.

“Machi?”

She looks up at him, her expression dazed a bit, clearly sucked in by the manga’s contents. She seems to notice, and he watches as she forces herself to straighten up, as her eyes zero in on his own with that straightforward perceptiveness that seems as natural to her as breathing. “President?”

“Do you like coffee?” he asks, shoving a free hand in his pocket, tapping his fingers on the book he’s holding.

She tilts her head in confusion, her eyes narrowing before she nods at him. She holds the manga to her chest. “Usually. Why?”

Yuki jerks his chin over to the coffee shop in the far corner of the bookstore. “Would you like to get some?”

She directs her gaze over to where he gestured, her eyes scanning over the name of the café. When she looks back at him, her cheeks are flushed again, but only slightly.

Still.

“Sure,” she says softly, and Yuki smiles at her.

* * *

Tohru frowns down at her plate of food, worrying at her lip with her teeth. She doesn’t want to start eating yet.

She notices Kyo stare at her out the corner of her eye, and she turns to look at him. His chopsticks are already in hand.

“You’re hungry, right?”

She nods.

“Then eat. Who cares if that rat isn’t home yet. He probably got held up doing something. Point is, who gives a shit?”

Tohru purses her mouth at him, looking at him almost reproachfully. “Kyo-kun, what if something happened to him?”

He barks out a laugh and meets her gaze, his mouth twisted up in a smirk, looking as if to challenge her. Despite her best attempts to be angry at him, her heart still flutters at the sight.

“If someone managed to kidnap that bastard then he’ll be back by the end of the day.” He glances back over at the television. “No one can stand to be around that guy for longer than maybe five minutes.”

Tohru opens her mouth to say something. Maybe to scold him. Maybe to laugh. Maybe to just say his name, but the sound of her phone buzzing on the table catches her attention, and she reaches for it, swiping up.

She gasps. “Yuki-kun texted me!”

Kyo says nothing. He grabs the remote and flips the channel.

Tohru’s eyes skim over the message and she types in a quick reply, complete with a smiley face, before setting her phone back down. She places her chin in her palm and looks off to the side, a curious frown pulling at her lips. Kyo glances at her again.

“What?”

She looks back at him, smiling slightly; a reflex. “Yuki-kun said that he was going to be late for dinner today. He ran into a friend at the bookstore.”

Kyo picks up his chopsticks again and starts to pick through his food with gusto, his expression happy and a bit smug.

“Thank God!” He whoops. “Another day of not eating with that bastard.”

“Kyo-kun!” Tohru scolds, pointing a chopstick at him. It doesn’t matter, though. She can’t help it. She finally laughs.

She notices Kyo glance at her again, his expression warm, victory shining in his eyes.

They eat.

* * *

They’re sitting at one of the tables near a window, the light of the setting sun settling a golden glow over the tiny coffee shop corner. It doesn’t get in their eyes- at least, not annoyingly so- but beams of sunlight flare behind them, haloing her head. Her fair skin glows beneath its radiance, giving her some seraphic, ethereal appearance.

Yuki shifts in his seat, made a little uncomfortable by the nature of his thoughts. This is why he doesn’t go to coffee shops all that much. They make him feel a little pretentious. It’s probably the atmosphere or something, or maybe he’s just been living with Shigure for too long.

The barista calls their name and they both stand up, walking over to the counter. Yuki notices Machi slip her wallet out of her purse- red, like her skirt- and settles his hand over her wrist.

She looks up at him, her eyebrows drawn in, a protest already at her lips, but Yuki interrupts her, the princely smile that she can so easily read through gracing his features. She blushes.

“I got it,” he says, taking out his debit card and sliding it into the slot to pay.

Machi stills looks reluctant and a little guilty, eyeing his debit card in the machine and the barista who can’t seem to stop stealing glances at him. She purses her mouth, probably still wanting to argue with him, but after a pointed look towards the barista, she relents, pouting and crossing her arms.

Yuki turns back to the barista, taking his card out of the machine and slipping it back into his wallet. He reaches out, taking their drinks and her cookie from his outstretched hands, and flashes a smile at the blushing boy. He turns back to Machi and hands her the bag and her drink. She looks at him deadpan, even as she thanks him. He walks back to their table, her footsteps signaling that she’s following him.

Yuki sits back down, letting his hot coffee cool for a bit before he drinks it. He peers out of the window, thinking that it might be too late to drink caffeine at this hour before shrugging. It’s not the first time he’d have trouble sleeping. He could deal with it.

He turns back to Machi and finds himself smiling at her choice of drink. She notices his amusement and glares at him as she sucks through her straw. She puts her drink back down to talk to him. “What?”

Yuki shakes his head, shrugging. “Nothing.”

She frowns and narrows her eyes. “No, you’re laughing.” He wasn’t actually. “Why are you laughing?”

Yuki leans back in his chair and wraps his fingers around his warm cup before lifting it to his lips and taking a slow sip. He relishes in the flush that rises along her cheeks. “I just didn’t think that you’d like that kind of drink, that’s all.”

She looks at him incredulously before holding up her iced coffee, inching it towards his face. “What? You’ve never heard of a Frappuccino before?” she asks, waving it around.

He laughs, sparing her a look. “Of course I have. I’m friends with your brother of all people,” he says. “He doesn’t shut up about iced coffees.”

A ghost of a smile flickers across the corners of her mouth and she suppresses it by taking another sip, sucking her cheeks in. Yuki pretends that he doesn’t notice that.

“That’s different. Kakeru drinks macchiatos, not this.” She takes another sip.

Yuki nods like the difference is relevant and hums sarcastically. Evidently, she notices his slight mocking, because she spares him a scowl and then digs her hand into her bag, taking a vicious bite out of her cookie.

He finds himself without anything to say again, despite knowing that he doesn’t necessarily need to. He feels comfortable, and obviously Machi does as well, the signs of it apparent as she calmly eats her cookie, her gaze distant and yet focused on the burgeoning twilight outside.

He doesn’t want to disturb her peace, or his, really, but for some reason, he wants to make the most out of this day. He wants her to remember it.

“I’ve just never drank them before,” he blurts out, wincing as she looks back over at him, her eyes narrowed as she tries to infer what he means. Her eyes brighten when she does and she reaches for her iced coffee, holding it out to him. “Here then,” she says. “Try it.”

He feels himself blush, somehow made undone by the idea of sharing a drink with her. Of the implications of it, and yet exhilarated all the same, deriving some strange pleasure at the thought of putting his mouth where her lips were before.

But still, he looks at her as if in shock, and watches as Machi’s face flares up with heat at the implication of her own offer. She moves as if to pull back, but Yuki’s hand flies out lightning-quick to grab her slight wrist, stopping her. He feels desperate, somehow, and not concerned enough as to why he does. “I’ll drink it,” he says, nearly wincing over how eager he sounds.

Machi’s eyes are wide as she looks at him, her face cherry red, her fingers cold from the icy drink, and yet, still lovely. He swallows as he stares at her.

She slowly lets go of the drink, passing it to him, and he brings it to his lips, trying not to look at her as he drinks through her straw. When he’s finished, he glances at her, nudging the coffee in her direction. She reaches for it and tugs it back, holding it to her chest, looking at him expectantly.

He shrugs at her, feigning nonchalance, acting as if his mouth wasn’t tingling just from drinking from the same straw. It’s so dumb. It’s not like he actually kissed her or anything.

But still.

“It’s good,” he says. “It’s a little too sweet for me, though.”

Machi tilts her head at him, a not-quite-smirk ghosting over her lips, her eyes shining. “You really wouldn’t like this cookie then,” she says, a hint of challenge in her tone, and Yuki stamps down the urge to smile. Was she flirting? Is this flirting?

He leans towards her and snatches her cookie from her hand, snapping off a piece and popping it in his mouth, smirking at her offended glare. He winks at her and relishes in her resulting blush. “You’re right,” he says. “I wouldn’t.”

“Then don’t eat it!”

Yuki takes another bite, mostly just to spite her, but hands it back when he notices the scowl on her face.

Machi grimaces at him, sipping her coffee again. She directs a look at his own drink, at his empty hands, and a concerned frown flickers across her lips. “It’s getting late, President. Aren’t you hungry?” she asks.

Her question catches him off guard and he thinks for a moment, concluding that, yes, he is hungry. He hasn’t eaten since this morning. He knows that Tohru probably left some food out for him, but he doesn’t want to go back home yet. He nods. “Yeah, maybe I can get something here,” he says, peering at the menu over her head.

She nods at him and reaches around for her purse, pushing her purchased manga aside, and brings it back around, whipping out her wallet. Yuki raises a hand to stop her again, instinct driving him to refuse her, but she meets his gaze levelly and lays her wallet down between them. “I’m paying this time.”

“No, Machi, it’s fine really-“

“I know,” she interrupts smoothly. “But I’m still paying.”

He looks at her, watching as she narrows her eyes at him, as she prepares for him to challenge her. He almost wants to, intrigued by the determination that solidifies over her delicate features. It compliments her.

“You know, I’ve been taught that it’s courteous for a man to pay for a woman’s food,” he says.

“But it’s not my food. It’s your food. Also that’s only if it’s a date.”

Her statement throws him off-guard, and he blushes to think that they may actually be on a date. Was this a date? Did she think so? Given her last statement, evidently not. He wonders if she would’ve liked to be.

He shakes his head, driving away his thoughts. He forces a smirk onto his face, not quite sure if he’s executing nonchalance effectively or not. “I was raised to be courteous,” he says.

She huffs a laugh, and something about it edges on the sound of bitter, of melancholic. “I’ve dealt with a lifetime of courtesy. I’m not sure if I quite like the thought of it much,” she says. And she says it like she’s joking, like she’s being sarcastic, but Yuki can’t help but remember the destroyed classrooms, the broken chalk, the promises of footprints upon snowy ground, and he relents before he realizes that he does.

He sits back and takes another sip of his coffee, watching as the streetlamps begin to light up outside and set a fluorescent glow upon her face, complimenting her as well as the sunlight did. “Fine,” he says. “Get me whatever.”

* * *

She buys him a cheese Danish and another cookie for herself, her Frappuccino nothing but a sad mix of melted ice and half-eaten whipped cream. Of which she ate very distractingly while Yuki stared at the table.

He thinks that his pastry tastes okay, a standard flavor for the kind of place that they’re eating in, but Machi’s smile once she took a bite of it convinces him that it’s better, and he eats it without complaint.

“So, you’re telling me that you let Kakeru bully you into buying that dumb clown book?” she asks, grinning slightly around her mouth-full of cookie. Yuki shoots her a slight glare and swallows down his Danish.

“First of all, bold of you to assume that I would let Kakeru bully me into doing anything”- He resolutely ignores her scoff- “I bought it because I was curious.”

She snorts and rolls her eyes, waving her cookie at him. “No, you weren’t. Just admit that he embarrassed you into buying the clown book.”

Yuki turns around and digs through his plastic bag, bringing the book out and sliding it across the table. “With the amount of money that I spent on this, you should call it by its title and not the ‘clown book,’” he reprimands, air-quoting her words in an attempt to mock her, regardless of whether he thought the same himself.

Machi lowers her nearly-finished sweet and picks up his book, making a slight face at the sinister clown on the cover. She turns it over in her hands, Yuki watching as she slides her fingers over the cover. His face is warm when she looks at him again. “This is a paperback. You didn’t spend all that much on this,” she says dryly.

Yuki snorts and takes it back from her hands, his lack of response answer enough for her, and she laughs.

He opens his mouth to say something, probably to poke fun at her again, when she gasps suddenly and he looks over at her, concerned as he notices her worried frown. “What is it?” he asks.

She looks at him before showing him her phone screen, the time flashing. Nine o’clock. Closing time.

Realization dawns over him and he looks around, now embarrassingly aware of the now annoyed glare on the barista’s face and the mostly empty bookstore around them. He breathes out a barely audible, “Oh shit,” and moves to stand up.

Machi clearly had the same idea, because by the time he’s gathered up his wrapper and his empty coffee cup, she’s already throwing hers away, keeping the trash lid open for him to shove his inside. He does so quickly and instinctively takes her hand, handing over her purse and her manga. He steers them towards the door and walks outside, Machi following at his heels.

Once they’re out, he brings them to the street curb, reluctant to let go of her hand. Reluctant to go.

He doesn’t get to decide. She pulls away first, her soft fingers skimming over his cool palm, and takes a step back. She looks up, sucking in her lower lip. She looks like she wants to say something and he’s loathed to interrupt her.

“I had- This was nice,” she says softly, nearly a whisper, but even over the din of the city, her voice rings like a bell in his mind. It wraps around his heart and sits there, warming it.

He feels compelled to answer. “I did too. It was fun.” He hesitates. “You’re fun.”

She looks up at him, eyes wide, shocked, and it makes him angry. It makes him want to hunt down every single person that made her feel boring and inadequate and do something. Maybe punch them. Maybe talk down to them in the way that he’s so apt in doing sometimes. But mostly, he just wants her to stop looking so lost when he compliments her.

“Thank you,” she whispers.

He just nods.

She nods back slowly and looks down at her feet, her fingers smoothing down her skirt. He wants to grab her hand again. He notices her play with the ends of her ponytail. He never got to tell her that he thought that she looked pretty with it. However, it almost feels disingenuous to think so when he’s sure that he would find her pretty in almost any hairstyle now. But even so, the urge to do so chokes him, and he wants to do so much. Like point out how the neon lights of the surrounding restaurants reflect in her eyes like a kaleidoscope.

He wants to. He almost does, but she interrupts him again. “Well, I have to go,” she says shyly, reluctantly, as if she doesn’t want to leave, and he steps forward, looking for any excuse to prolong this. 

“Let me walk you back,” he says, hoping that it comes off as a question, knowing that it most likely doesn’t.

Machi blushes, the pink highlighted by the neon red of the city lights; a captivating swirl of color, a mosaic of something uniquely her. He thinks that she’s going to say yes- she looks like she is- when she shakes her head, her knuckles white around the handle of her little red purse.

“It’s alright, really. I don’t live that far from here, but thank you for offering,” she says, and he nods.

She steps back, turning slightly away from him, her eyes still locked on his own, a shimmering brown. She raises a hand and waves at him, her lips curling upwards in a smile so lovely that he physically sighs at the sight of it. “Goodnight, President,” she says, voice distant but bell-clear, and he has to stop himself from saying, _“Yuki. Call me Yuki.”_

He doesn’t.

* * *

When he gets back home and takes his shoes off by the door, he hears the sound of the television playing something suspiciously Disney-sounding. He walks over to the living room to see Kyo and Tohru seated at the couch, both in pajamas. Her legs are curled up beneath her, a blanket laying across her thighs. She was pressed shoulder to elbow against their other housemate, half-leaning into him.

Beside her, Kyo sits with his arms crossed, the other half of the blanket draped across him, his eyes fixed upon the movie playing. When he notices Yuki, he shoots a glare at him, something in his demeanor vaguely challenging, as if he expected Yuki to be upset over the way that they’re sitting.

He rolls his eyes, but spares a smile for Tohru when she finally spots him.

“Yuki-kun! I left dinner out in case you wanted some. Although, I think you’ll have to heat it up now…” she says, trailing off. Yuki notices that despite her exuberance in seeing him, she’s made no effort to move away from Kyo. He resists the urge to roll his eyes again.

“It’s okay, Honda-san. I ate at the café in the bookstore,” he reassures her, and Tohru smiles at him.

“Did you have fun?” she asks, and he looks at her, his heart warming at the memory of the day, smiling even with the cat glaring at him over her shoulder.

“Yeah,” he says, thinking of Machi’s smile, remembering the sheen of the city lights swimming within the warm brown of her eyes. “Yeah, I did.”

He turns and walks up the stairs, wondering if she’d ever want to do something like this again, hoping that she would.

In his room, he digs through the plastic bag and brings out his book, holding it in his hands. He runs his fingers over the glossy cover, rubbing the spine with his thumb, remembering the way that Machi did. Remembering, remembering, remembering.

For a moment, he wonders if it’s like this for Kyo. Shoving every memory into a box, trying his damnedest to keep them fresh and untouched by the yellowing passage of time.

He wonders if it’s like this for her. If this day was as significant. He wonders if she would even bother to think of it just a month from now.

He hopes so.

He will.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm so predictable. i just had to write yuki catching kyoru not-cuddling on the couch. i'm so fucking annoying. anyway i totally gave yuki a jaime lannister line. gold star if you can catch it!


End file.
